Rugged Interdependency - Amaravati Buddhist Monastery

Golden Highways Revisited: 1998Jill, Tracy and Diedre stay on for the evening, the latter overnight as she is fromtwo hours away. We sit and watch The Mindful Way and The Buddha Comes to Sussexto great acclaim. Weary, weary, weary by the end of the day.April 21 stThe pattern repeats itself, again avid conversations over lunch: day one emphasizedmettā and pabhassara citta (the radiant mind, naturally free of defilement) andhad good questions on reflective thought and emotion – to wit how to practice withthe latter through noninvolvement in its stories and by attending to, and letting goof, the accompanying physical feeling instead.Day two went into vipassanā, rebirth, the Five Precepts and accepting Nature theway it is. Gushing with gratitude they all line up at the end to bid farewells andoffer gifts in a spontaneous and moving ceremony. The cat, Pañña, is still unsurequite what all these strangers are doing in her house.It seems strange that just a couple of days of teaching the essential themes –the ol’ story – has such an earthmoving effect but I guess, if this is the first time ithas been heard, all the bells in heaven are likely to go off. How wonderful is theDhamma – like sweet sweet dew on parched desert seeds, bringing them into gloriousblossom after an age of quiescence. It’s a delight and a privilege to be a partof this alchemy, and also a test to receive the unabashed love of the folks withoutpalming it off, or taking it personally. Diedre talked with me of this same issue,regarding praises for her singing: You just have to receive it into the feeling bodyand meet the eyes from the empty heart.Laden with offerings once again, I will have to organize another package to gooff to Abhayagiri.April 22 ndEarly morning, wandering in the cool dew of John and Gina’s garden – retired nowfrom their lives as Wall Street lawyers, they fully enjoy (as do all us visitors) themossy lawns and tall pines, rockeries, the pool and tennis court, the cherry and theazaleas – hidden fragrances fill the liquid air. Bright morning sun rises throughthe trees.Our day for da Cidy.John washes the side windows to make sure of perfect view – we surge off andmake our way to the house where Jill lives. The cluster of canine goodwill aroundtheir place rushes to meet us: Scarlet, Reason and a spaniel whose name I missed– soft dogs roaring their gentle hellos. We visit briefly the world of her chandelierand sculpture studio – strange hornet’s nests of wire and light, chairs of brass andivy, a home to birds and beasts. She holds up a translucent Buddha – unfinished –and introduces us to a standing one in process – only wire and empty suggestionsof shape so far.Down the lanes past hedges and rolling meadows, copses and ponds of homecounties England. We hit the freeway and join the roll south to New York City.Signs to New Rochelle and Scarsdale bring resonances of a hundred songs and48